


Hell is other people

by Graysongirl



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Good Friend Cherri Bomb (Hazbin Hotel), Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:28:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graysongirl/pseuds/Graysongirl
Summary: Cherri bomb reflects on her time in Hell, and what really is her punishment there.
Relationships: Angel Dust & Cherri Bomb (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	Hell is other people

**Author's Note:**

> So this is for Valdust week 2 with the prompt family/friends. Valentino doesn't appear it in and neither does Angel, really, it's more a POV ramble from the mind of our Angel's best friend. Just a one shot.

They say Hell is other people. I never really understood that when I was alive. It was from some dumb play by Sartre that they made us read in school. They even made us act out some of that shit, standing up in front of the whole class mumbling lines about who the fuck knows what. The teacher said it was something about never being able to get away from expectations or judgement. Some social commentary shit. Anyway, I was much more interested in chemistry than classical literature, if you get what I mean. My mother said I needed to apply myself more, that I shouldn’t be mucking around trying to make explosions in the garden shed and should be trying to find the cure for cancer or some noble crap like that. Well, fuck cancer, all those other people that Hell supposedly is can go cure cancer, I just wanted to have fun. 

I didn’t count on that fun literally backfiring on me, of course, but hey what can you do. Shit happens and you just roll with the punches and use less fertiliser next time. I was freaked out as fuck when I first came to down here, my face was totally messed up and I worried I was blind or something crazy. The cyclops thing works for me though and after a couple of years I really started to dig it and, hey, I get 50% off sunglasses now! 

Only cyclops can make that joke, by the way, anyone else does it and they’re an ableist piece of shit. 

Those first couple of years were rough though, I won’t lie to you, girlfriend. I didn’t get any of the special attention some of the worse sinners get, my own personal demon to make my life- or lack of, now I think about it- unbearable. I just sort of existed, left to my own devices. It turns out there’s a lot of space in Hell, and a lot of people who want to take a piece of it for their own so I made myself a nice little niche to take control of, something to call my own and to try and get past the sheer bloody boredom of it all. I started to wonder if that’s what my punishment was, an eternity of boredom and nothing to do. That felt fitting, my teachers always said I was incapable of keeping still and I really hate not doing anything. 

Then I found Angel. I never really intended to end up in a strip joint but I had some cash and, if I’m being brutally honest with you all, I hadn’t gotten any action since the old explosion to the face sent me down here so I gotta admit I was hoping to try and score some action in there. I wasn’t expecting to find a pink fluffy spider demon that had a wicked sense of humour and an even wickeder sense of style. He was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide, to quote another book by some famous dude, so scoring was off the table but we had a mad night of dancing and after that I started to go see him all the time. Hell didn’t feel so boring any more with a friend like that, and Angel always knew how to liven up the party. He was usually high as a kite and always good for a laugh, ready to come with me on stupid adventures to blow shit up for kicks. We’d stay out so late partying, being the last to leave and being kicked out at closing then just finding somewhere else to go. Angel was never the one to call it quits, never one to let the good times end. Man, I’d be so exhausted after some nights out that I’d just crash all of the next day and try to piece together what had gone on from voxtagram photos and texts. 

I’m a little embarrassed to admit how long I took me to realise why he never wanted to call it a night, why he was always on the dance floor and saying we should go to the mall, or the cinema, or to my place. Never to his. I don’t think I ever set foot inside Porn Studios now I think about it apart from the night club next door. 

It was really presumptuous to just turn up at his place, I know that, but, girlfriend, when you see your best bitch hiding a black eye with make up one too many times you don’t give a shit about good manners anymore. I don’t think he expected me to walk into his room after that show he did, you know the one, the one that blew up on Voxtube and had a million hits just in the first day. There was broken glass everywhere, wine splashed up the walls and trodden into the carpet. He didn’t say anything as I sat down on the edge of the bed. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, so I didn’t. I just sat there and let him get it all out. Have you ever felt that helpless? 

“I’m going to kill him.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, a fire I didn’t know existed burning inside me. 

“There’s nothing you can do, Cherri.” My boy, my angel, sounds quiet. Broken. “I’m neva gonna get away from him.” 

My chest tightens and I know deep down he’s right. All the words I want to say, comfort or humour or I don’t know the fuck what just die in my mouth. It hits me like a tonne of bricks as I lay down next to my buddy and just let him cry out all the pain and hurt that gets locked down behind a mask of killer make up and sharp smiles, I love this guy to pieces and I can’t do anything to help him. He’s like my brother and my best friend all rolled into one and he’s hurting so badly. 

I guess Sartre was right. Hell really is other people.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this made sense and wasn't too self indulgent! I will be updating Guardian Angel this week I hope, this was just another prompt I got an idea from as a one shot


End file.
